


Goodnight

by msred



Series: Puckleberry Shuffle [14]
Category: Glee
Genre: College, F/M, Gloriana - Freeform, Goodnight, New Directions reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2012-07-03
Packaged: 2017-11-09 01:51:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msred/pseuds/msred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I dropped you off/Just a little after midnight/Sat in my car/Till you turned off your porch light/I should have kissed you/I should have pushed you up against the wall/I should have kissed you/Just like I wasn’t scared at all</p><p>What the hell was wrong with him? That shit was a date! And not locking that shit down with a goodnight kiss? Not cool!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goodnight

**Gloriana – “Good Night” { www.youtube.com/watch?v=rzMQu4zTtK8 }**

**_I dropped you off  
Just a little after midnight  
Sat in my car  
Till you turned off your porch light  
I should have kissed you  
I should have pushed you up against the wall  
I should have kissed you  
Just like I wasn’t scared at all_ **

When he reached the stop sign at the end of her street, Puck looked down at the bright blue display of the dashboard clock. 12:15. He grimaced. “I hope your dads aren’t gonna be pissed.” He wasn’t sure what her curfew was, but he was pretty sure that it was a hell of a lot earlier than his. ( _“I’ve long ago given up hope of you coming in before I go to bed, Noah,”_ his ma’s voice echoed in his head, _“but, for the sake of my mental health, I would really appreciate it if you would try to be home before I wake up.”_ ) “And I’d offer to come in with ya, smooth things over or whatever, but that’d probably just make it worse,” he turned to her as he pulled into her driveway, pushing the gearshift into the neutral position and letting his hand rest on it, and saw her looking back at him quizzically. “I mean, I’m not exactly the Golden Boy or whatever. They might not be so thrilled about you ridin’ around with me, ‘specially this late.”

“Noah,” Rachel sighed and dropped her hand on top of his. “My fathers like you just fine.” He scoffed and she squeezed his fingers. “I mean it. Papa, while he is of course incredibly open-minded and has no prejudice against anyone based on religious preference or heritage, likes to see me spending time with a fellow Jew.” She giggled. “And he loves your mother.”

Puck snorted a little. “Feeling’s mutual.”

“And daddy,” she traced her fingertips absent-mindedly over his knuckles, “thinks you’re quite charming.”

“Right,” he drawled, watching her slender fingers move over his, “I’m a real charming son of a bitch.”

Rachel swatted at his hand before withdrawing her own to play with the hem of her skirt. “I mean it, Noah. Though your particular use, or _misuse_ , of the English language often leaves something to be desired, the fact that you so openly speak your mind and say exactly what you mean is refreshing. And though I doubt he would leave you alone with his liquor cabinet, or a pack of matches,” she waited while he chuckled, his head dropping back onto the seat, “he trusts you. Particularly where I am concerned.”

“Yeah?” He let his head loll to the side to look at her. Puck kinda had a hard time buying that. Not the part about her daddy thinking he was charming ‘cause he, like, wasn’t afraid to call it like it was. He could see where LeRoy would dig that. And the other stuff didn’t bother him. He knew he was a firebug with a tendency to drink more than he should at times. But that whole ‘dad trusting him with his daughter’ thing, yeah – that was new. And he wasn’t completely sure he believed it.

“Yeah.” He watched as she dropped her own head back and turned to face him, her posture mirroring his. “I mean, when you say you’re going to do something, you nearly always do it. You’re dependable.” He smirked at the soft pink blush spreading over her cheeks. “And not only have you never let me down, you’ve stepped up several times when it wasn’t even your responsibility. That hasn’t gone unnoticed by daddy. Or me.” She dropped her eyes to the center of the seat, where both of their hands now rested, his moving slowly over the leather until his fingertips just brushed hers. “Anyway,” she cleared her throat, a soft, almost hesitant sound, “I doubt my fathers are even still up.” Her eyes darted to the house and his followed. The only light burning was the one on the front porch. “And if they are, it will be fine. They knew we were going to meet up with the club. They expected it to be a relatively late night.”

“Cool.” He smirked a little when she rolled her eyes. She probably thought he was _misusing_ the English language again.

“I had a wonderful time, Noah.” She was blushing again, her fingers spreading and shifting a little to fit between his. He smiled. It was cute.

“Yeah, it was cool. Hadn’t seen most of those guys in a while. It was nice to hang out.” His brow furrowed when he thought he saw her frown a little.

“Right.” Rachel paused and looked down at the seat, seeming to study their hands as her middle finger hooked over his just a little. “And, well, it was lovely of you to offer me a ride. It just goes to further prove what I was saying before.” She smiled, a little dreamily, he thought. “And it was very nice to spend some extra time with you. You know, away from the group.”

“Yeah, that part was good. You’re pretty good company, B.” He lifted his finger a little off the seat, chasing hers when she seemed like she was starting to pull back.

Rachel dropped her head, tucking her chin into her chest. “I haven’t been called that in so long.”

Puck just watched her for a moment, her eyes closing and her head tilting to the side, a soft smile on her face almost as if she was letting the nickname roll around in her head before moving on. He couldn’t help but smile back. Rachel missed being called by a nickname, and he’d realized when she’d bounced down her driveway and into his truck several hours before with a cheerful, “Hello, Noah!” that he missed being called by his real one. With her in New York, the only people who called him that were his mom and his sister, and now that she was in high school, even Sarah had taken to calling him “Puck” half the time.

“Well,” Rachel sighed and straightened her back, smoothing her hands over her skirt. “I suppose I should be going now.”

“Right.” Puck cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his own seat, pulling his hand back when she was no longer touching him. “I, uh, guess I’ll see ya later. Britt’s birthday’s next week, so you know there’ll be something for that. I could totally give you a ride again, if you want.”

“Oh. Right.” Rachel pulled the hem of her skirt tight between each thumb and forefinger, eyes fixed on the material. “That would be lovely Noah, thank you. I guess we’ll just talk once the plans are made.”

He nodded. There was more that he wanted to say, but he wasn’t exactly sure what it was, and Rachel seemed pretty damn uncomfortable right then, so he thought it’d be best to just let her go. “So … you, uh, you want me to walk you up? Make sure you get in okay and everything?”

“Oh.” She blinked owlishly back at him. “No. I’m – it’s fine. It’s just right there. They left the light on for me, so it’s fine.” She pushed the door open, but hesitated, feet dangling over the ground, to look back over her shoulder at him. “I, um, I had a good time. Thank you.”

Puck watched her lower herself out of the truck with a small scowl on his face. He didn’t know what exactly the scowl was _for_ , but it grew as he put the truck into reverse and watched her walk up the sidewalk. When he saw the interior light come on and the porch light flickered off, he eased out of the driveway.

Puck was confused. Really – no clue what the hell just happened. When he’d picked Rachel up that evening, she’d been all bouncy and happy and, “It was so chivalrous of you to offer me a ride Noah,” and giggling and blushing while she sat practically in the middle of the truck. Then, at the Hummels’ house, she’d been way happier than he’d kinda expected, considering the Finn-and-Quinn show that was in full swing by the end of the night. She’d let him lead her around with his hand on the small of her back, even leaning into it a few times when Santana said something bitchy that he knew hurt Rachel’s feelings even though he also knew Santana was saying it more out of habit than to actually be mean. Then, they get in the truck to come home, and the closer they get to her house, the weirder she gets. She started getting all hesitant sounding, and kind of like, unsure of everything she was saying, and that made him feel all weird and unsure. And then he was like, nervous or whatever, about being alone with a girl in his truck, and he just didn’t _do_ that shit. Seriously, it was like she was bipolar or something, ‘cause one minute they’re on the swing in Kurt’s back yard and she’s got her legs thrown across his lap and her head on his shoulder and he’s kinda tickling that spot behind her knee and –

_Oh. Shit._

At that point, Puck’s truck was kind of just sitting all the way across the little two-lane residential street, still facing into her driveway, and he could see that the front hall light was still on and her bedroom light wasn’t on yet, so she was probably still downstairs. He cut the wheel and backed up a little more before throwing the truck into first and pulling forward just until he was parked parallel to the curb.

What the hell was wrong with him? That shit was a date! He was pretty sure it hadn’t started off that way, even in Rachel’s mind, but every time he touched her, or went to refill her drink, or steered them to an area with two open seats then proceeded to drop a hand to her thigh or wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her close, he pushed it just a bit farther into date territory. Then somewhere along the way, probably about the time he was pulling her down to sit between his legs by the fire pit, his hands resting on her hips and her back pressing against his chest, if he had to put his finger on an exact moment, it became a full-on, official, first date. And not locking that shit down with a good night kiss? Not cool! And not just ‘cause it was like, tradition to seal the deal with a kiss, but because it was _Rachel_ and she was hot and a really good kisser ( _and yeah, okay, maybe after really hangin’ out with her for the night he realized there were some actual, like, **feelings** there or whatever – small ones_) and he would pretty much take any excuse to kiss her. Ever. No wonder she got all weird and fidgety and like freaked out or whatever. She’s sittin’ there thinkin’ she’s on a date, probably expecting him to try for a hell of a lot more than just one kiss (hello, it’s Puck – not exactly known for being shy), and he’s basically saying, “See ya around. Don’t get lost on your way to the front door.”

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t _that_ bad, but he wasn’t exactly smooth and shit either. Which, okay, _that_ makes a lot more sense now too. ‘Cause he was tripping over his words almost as bad as she was, and Puck just doesn’t _do_ like, nervous around girls. Sure, he’d been a little off his game with Lauren, but have you _seen_ that chick? He had a right to be freaked out. But here he is with Rachel Berry – tiny, gorgeous, voice for days and tanned, toned legs for miles – sitting in his truck waiting for him to make a move, and his whole brain, like, shuts down. It had to be that whole ambiguous, not-really-sure-what-exactly-was-going-on thing messing with his head and throwing him off his game. Had to be.

Puck checked the house one more time, and as far as he could tell, she was probably still downstairs, which meant he could knock loud enough to get her attention without having to be so loud that he would wake up her dads. She’d assured him that they were cool with him and all, but he didn’t wanna push that shit. Best to let sleeping dogs lie, as it were. He jumped out of the truck, taking the extra second necessary to actually _close_ the door and not just slam it. He probably should have been glad that it was almost 12:30 a.m. and therefore he didn’t have to worry about the Berrys’ neighbors watching him sprinting across their front lawn, but he couldn’t bring himself to care that much. All he could be bothered to notice was that when he was about three steps from the front porch, the inside of the house went dark. He picked up the pace and was catching his breath at the front door not quite a second later.

**_I turned off the car  
Ran through the yard  
Back to your front door  
Before I could knock  
You turned the lock  
And met me on the front porch  
And I kissed you  
Goodnight  
And now that I’ve kissed you  
It’s a good night good night baby goodnight_ **

**_~.~_ **

**_You couldn’t see me  
Watching through the window  
Wondering what went wrong  
Praying that you wouldn’t go  
You should have kissed me  
You should have pushed me up against the wall  
You should have kissed me  
I was right on the edge and ready to fall_ **

Rachel pressed her back into the sturdy wood of her fathers’ front door and reached blindly to her side until she found the double light switch, flipping one switch down and the other up, simultaneously illuminating the foyer and cutting off the light to the porch. At that moment, the one thing she really, truly wanted more than anything else was the ability to just dissolve herself into a puddle on the hardwood floor. (She was pretty sure she remembered seeing a show like that when she was a young girl, and the idea sounded particularly wonderful to her at that moment.) But, since that wasn’t really a possibility, she would move on to option number two. She _had_ to know where she had messed up. She needed to know where her and Noah’s lovely evening – _she_ had certainly believed it to be lovely – had gone awry.

She didn’t think it was her normal problem of wanting things too much. To be honest, she hadn’t really thought about Noah much over the past nine months, so she certainly wasn’t guilty of desiring him too deeply. Sure, he had crossed her mind, in that same abstract way she had thought of all her old New Directions friends at different times, especially when she heard a certain song or saw something that reminded her of one of them, but they were passing thoughts. And when she had run into him at the gas station that morning, the reunion had held the same warmth and joy that she had felt when she had gotten together with Tina a few days earlier, before everyone else had made it back into town, but she hadn’t noticed any particular spark – certainly no romantic feelings – upon seeing him. So when he asked if she was going to be at Kurt and Finn’s that night for the New Directions reunion and she sadly told him that she didn’t think she would be able to attend because she was just on her way to drop her car off for a routine check- up (and yes, he’d laughed at her when she said “routine check-up”) and likely wouldn’t have transportation, she didn’t look at his offer to give her a ride as anything more than that. So no, she knew that this time her mistake hadn’t been one of wanting it – wanting _him_ – too much.

She also didn’t think the problem was that she came across as desperate or clingy or whatever other word had been used to describe her over the past several months by men – boys, really – who just didn’t understand her very passionate personality. First, Noah _did_ understand her personality. He got that she was just loud and, okay, sometimes overbearing, and that she had this intrinsic desire, a _need_ really, to have people’s attention. And because he did get her, because he had known her for so long, and probably better than nearly anyone else (though neither of them ever discussed that point out loud, with one another or anyone else), Noah would know that what was considered desperate and clingy by the handful of men she had gone on a date or two with in New York could have passed for aloof by high school Rachel’s standards. Secondly, Rachel _hadn’t_ been desperate or clingy – by any standards. Sure, she had been in a lovely mood when he had picked her up, and she’d had so much to say to him on the short drive that she could easily have been described as bubbly, even giddy (she heard Kurt’s voice echoing the word ‘manic’ in her head), but she was simply catching up with an old friend, and she could tell by the way Noah grinned at her any time he took his eyes off the road that he was okay with it. And when they’d arrived at the get-together, she’d thanked him for the ride and then she’d been the one to put some distance between them, leaving him in the family room with Mike and Sam while she headed off to the kitchen to catch up with Mercedes, Brittany, and Santana, all of whom she hadn’t seen since the winter holiday break. By the time Kurt came in to drag the girls out to socialize with everyone else, the whole club had arrived and everyone was spilling out into the back yard, where Blaine and Sam were tending the grill and the others were just kind of lounging about. She had just been on her way to say hello to Finn and Quinn, whom she hadn’t seen earlier, when Noah swooped in and hovered over her as if he were just waiting to catch her when she fell apart. (She wasn’t going to, for the record.) Honestly, she kept kind of waiting for him to realize that seeing Finn and Quinn very obviously flirting wasn’t going to break her and go back to ‘shooting the shit,’ as he liked to say, with the guys, leaving her to find something or someone else to entertain herself. He never did. If anything, he became more attentive, possibly even affectionate, as the night went on, touching her nearly constantly and staying at her side throughout the entire evening. So no, she couldn’t see how Noah’s confusing change in demeanor from the Hummels’ house to her driveway could possibly be attributed to him finding her to be either desperate or clingy.

Rachel turned, pushing aside the curtain over the door’s window just enough to peek out with one eye. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her, because then all that stuff about her decidedly not seeming desperate or clingy? Yeah, right out the … well, window. She watched him back slowly down her driveway, a little worried that he was going to back right over Mrs. Miller’s azaleas because honestly, he appeared to be paying much more attention to his steering wheel than to whatever  might be behind him. That would _not_ be good. She already had the feeling that she wasn’t the only one watching Noah leave her house after midnight; the last thing they needed was for the old busybody to come running down the sidewalk in her nightgown, screeching about her precious flowers. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief when the truck rolled to a stop about a foot short of the shoulder of the road. When Noah finally lifted his eyes from the steering wheel and fixed his gaze on the door, Rachel gently moved the curtain back into place and dropped her forehead against the fabric.

Deep inside, she knew that he had only stopped so he could shift gears – it wasn’t as if he could make the entire drive home in reverse. But still, she couldn’t stop the bloom of hope (and just a little bit of confusion and agony) that grew up in her chest when the truck stopped moving. She desperately hoped he would get out and come to her, if only so she could ask what exactly went wrong on their date to have him leaving so … awkwardly. (And well, if he’d wanted to throw in a good night kiss while he was at it, she certainly wouldn’t argue with the custom.)

_Wait, did she just call it a date? Well that’s … hmm._

And so while she waited, her forehead still pressed against the window and the light from his headlights glowing even through the curtain, Rachel slipped back into her head, trying to pinpoint when the evening stopped being a group gathering that Noah drove her to and became a date with Noah (even if that particular definition existed only in her own mind). It could have been the moment he started guiding her around the backyard with his hand resting low on her back, but she hadn’t thought much of it at the time. And really, Noah had always been a very physical, touch-driven person, so even in hind-sight that didn’t seem exceptionally date-like to her. It also could have been somewhere around the first time that same hand on her back had steered her far from Finn when they went to take a seat with the others spread throughout the yard, but again, that didn’t really seem significant enough to transition the evening from ‘outing’ to ‘date.’ If anything, it felt more protective than jealous.

She started to think maybe trying to pinpoint a moment was oversimplifying the situation. Maybe it wasn’t a moment that had made her feel that her evening with Noah was _more,_ maybe it was the sum of many moments, many kind gestures and soft touches and whispered words. Maybe it was all those things combined with the way he hummed into her hair while she rested between his thighs by the fire and the way he ran his fingers over her legs and whispered that she smelled “awesome” when she sat practically on his lap as he used his feet to sway them gently in the swing.

The one small bit of relief that Rachel felt as she replayed the events of the evening came from being convinced in the fact that the outward displays of affection – flirting, even – had not been one-sided on her part, and that even if she had fabricated the entire ‘date’ in her mind, it wasn’t without good cause. Of course, none of that explained why the night had ended so abruptly in her driveway, without the goodnight kiss she expected ( _hoped_ ) he would try for, or even a proper goodbye.

It was weird, really, Rachel thought as she turned to walk away from the door after finally seeing the glow from Noah’s headlights sweep away from the front of her house and point up her street. Twelve hours earlier, she would have told anyone that she didn’t even _want_ a kiss from Noah Puckerman; of _course_ she didn’t. He was just an old friend, someone she shared occasional texts and rare phone calls with. But after one evening together, a few happy hours, she couldn’t stop asking herself why – Why on earth had Noah Puckerman, of all people, not tried for even one kiss after all that? Why had he just dropped her off in her driveway without even so much as a crude joke or lascivious comment? _Why didn’t he want her?_

Rachel was nearly to the living room when she noticed that she could no longer hear the low rumble of the truck’s engine.

_Well, that’s that, I suppose._

And even though she hadn’t really expected him to stay – just hoped against hope, really – she couldn’t help the way her shoulders slumped and her heart dropped into her stomach when that last shred of hope was pulled just out of her grasp. Unwilling to go to bed with a broken heart ( _okay, so maybe that was a **bit** dramatic, but … lowered spirits – there, that seemed perfectly reasonable_), Rachel headed for the dvd rack to find something to take her mind off of stupid Noah Puckerman and his stupid flirting and his stupid lips that really were so good at kissing her and … She jumped when she was certain she heard a noise outside. Of course, that (thankfully) startled her off of the truly ridiculous train of thought her brain was just beginning to embark upon. She turned on her heel and walked quickly right back to the front door to investigate the origin of the surprising noise. She lived in a very peaceful neighborhood; she and her fathers were the only people on the block under the age of 60, so a noise outside at 12:30 on a Friday night when the three of them were all in the house was quite noteworthy.

Rachel again pushed the curtain to one side discreetly and gasped out loud when she saw a very familiar navy pick-up parked just in front of her house and an even more familiar form running – very quickly, at that – up the sidewalk straight toward her. Well, straight toward the door, but she was just behind it, so it was the same thing, really. Her mind racing, she took a step back and let the curtain fall closed.

_Was he … Did he … Maybe?_

She wouldn’t allow herself to really believe that he was coming back for the reason she hoped he was, because though that seemed to be a perfectly logical conclusion to draw (she really couldn’t think of another reason for him to be coming back, even if she told herself there must be dozens), nothing about her night had been logical. Still, she reached out to turn off the foyer light to avoid drawing any unwanted attention when she opened the door to receive her guest. (Mrs. Miller, remember? If she wasn’t already watching, Rachel didn’t want her to start now. And if she was, well, maybe the added darkness would help.)

Gripping the doorknob in one hand, Rachel smoothed the other over the front of her skirt and took a deep breath. She plastered on a smile that she hoped was both casual and warm and pulled the door open so that she was standing face-to-face with a slightly winded Noah Puckerman.

**_So I turned off the car  
Ran through the yard  
Back to your front door  
Before I could knock  
You turned the lock  
And met me on the front porch  
And I kissed you  
Goodnight  
And now that I’ve kissed you  
It’s a good night good night baby goodnight_ **

**_~.~_ **

**_I turned off the car  
ran through the yard  
back to your front door  
Half scared to death can’t catch my breath  
Aren’t these the moments we live for_ **

“Noah?” Rachel stopped in the doorway, one hand on the door frame and the other still lightly gripping the knob, and one foot sliding anxiously over the other. “Did you forget something?” _Did you decide it was a date?_

Puck shuffled his feet on the porch and shoved his hands in his back pockets, clearing his throat and nodding his head without making eye contact. _I didn’t forget, I just fucked it up._

“Oh.” She was kind of hoping to get a little more to go off of. Sure, she was bright, intuitive even, but Noah? Not the easiest person to read. And as the last 10 minutes had shown her, it was not a good idea to jump to conclusions when it came to him. “Well, is there something … I mean, can I help you in some way?” _Are you going to kiss me now?_

Rachel just stood there, still gripping the doorknob in one hand and the door frame in the other, as Puck nodded again and took two steps toward her, nearly closing the gap between them entirely. He continued to stare down at her feet as he moved toward her, and that just kinda pissed him off. ‘Cause again, he just doesn’t _do_ that nervous shit. So whatever the hell had been wrong with him, it was time to fix it. He swallowed once, hard, then dragged his eyes slowly (probably spending more time than was absolutely necessary on her legs) up her body until he reached her face. And _fuck_ , her face. Her eyes were all big and brown and just kind of staring back at him and one corner of her bottom lip was pulled between her teeth and it was so pink and plump and kind of just begging to be kissed. For a second all he could think about was how much of an idiot he was for not taking care of that the first time around, but finally his brain caught up and her voice echoed in his head, asking if she could help him, and then she was tilting her head like she was waiting for his answer. “I … uh.” _I’m gonna kiss you now._

Know what, screw it. Puck had never exactly had the best way with words, and apparently, since about the time he had pulled up in front of Rachel’s house, words had decided to fuck his life. So – done with words. He really kinda had his mind set on doing something else with his mouth anyway. He pulled his hands from his pockets and dropped one to her hip before sliding it around to the middle of her back and tugging her toward him. It didn’t take much, because nearly as soon as his fingers pressed into her skin, Rachel was leaning forward and letting herself fall into him. He dipped his head to meet her when she pushed herself up onto the tips of her toes, and when his lips pressed against hers – soft and warm and pliant under his own – he thought, again, for a fraction of a second about how stupid he had been for even considering leaving without making this happen. But then, his brain was taken over by thoughts of the little hand on his shoulder, gripping and pulling him closer, and another hand, fingers sliding through his hair and nails scratching _just right_ over his scalp, and even of his own hands, both of which were now on Rachel’s ribcage, holding her there like she might spook and run away if he let go. (She wasn’t going anywhere.)

As soon as Noah touched her, Rachel felt like she was falling, and she just let it happen. She let herself fall until her body was pressed to his. She fell until his hands were on her sides, thumbs rubbing over her ribs, and her hands were grabbing – for his shoulder, his hair, anything to catch herself. Only, she just kept falling, until his lips met hers. And _oh,_ they were so perfect. His lips were full and soft, and suddenly they were both wrapped around her bottom one and they were sucking and tugging and even massaging a little, and _oh my, just how does he do that?_ And then she wasn’t falling anymore. She was flying.

Puck felt Rachel sigh into the kiss and released her lip, grinning against her mouth as she mimicked his actions back to him. He pulled her tighter against him, digging his fingers into her back, when just the tip of her tongue traced the outline of his lip then slipped back into her own mouth. Without a conscious decision on his part, his feet moved to walk them back until Rachel’s back was flush against the doorframe. He let her tease him a bit more, her tongue darting out to tickle his top lip, then the bottom one again, because he could feel the little smirk she wore and he knew she was enjoying herself.

Rachel was honestly a little surprised that Noah had let her control the kiss as long as he had. Even as his body was pressing closer and closer, until finally his chest was flat against hers and her head was tilted nearly all the way back, he continued to let her take the lead. It was a little scary, because she wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing. She could count on one hand the number of boys she’d kissed since going to New York, and those kisses were all quick and straight-forward and, while nice enough, not very exciting. But this, with Noah, was like a game. It was teasing, and give and take, and just _fun_.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, while she was focusing on trying to memorize the contours of his beautiful lips (because she didn’t think she could bear it if she ever forgot), Rachel registered that Noah’s hands had left her body. While she wasn’t entirely surprised (she knew it would have to end sometime, and they were, after all, standing on her front porch at close to one a.m.), she couldn’t say she wasn’t disappointed. Still, she had just prided herself on not being that clingy, needy girl so far, and she wasn’t about to start. She backed off a little, lowering herself just a bit and moving her lips softly and slowly over his, then gasped, surprised, when Noah’s warm hands landed on her face – his palms cupping her jaw while his thumbs smoothed over her cheekbones and the tips of his fingers danced along her neck and in her hair behind her ears. He took advantage of catching her off guard, his tongue slipping past her lips and over her own without warning. He tasted warm and sweet, and even a little smoky, like the marshmallows he had insisted on shoving directly into the bonfire so that they were black before he would eat them. It was pleasant, and even a little comforting, and somehow completely Noah, and when he started to withdraw just a little, she pushed herself back up to follow him, chasing that taste.

Puck groaned when he started to pull back and Rachel came right along with him. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep it up – both his lungs and the back of his neck were on fire – but he knew he really didn’t want to stop. That was even more true when Rachel’s tongue swept through his mouth with a confidence completely unlike her earlier behavior. She giggled coyly when he growled and tugged on the lock of hair he had wrapped around his middle and index fingers. He felt her teeth sink into his bottom lip and pull, letting go just before she dropped back to her heels, looking up at him through her eyelashes and breathing heavily. He ran his hands over her shoulders and down to trace nonsense patterns over her arms, and dropped his forehead to the cool wood just above her head.

Rachel had wanted nothing less than to stop that kiss. But she was completely breathless, and her neck was aching, and she could only imagine how uncomfortable Noah must have been. Dropping her eyes to watch his chest rise and fall heavily beneath his t-shirt, she moved her hands to his sides and twisted the fabric in her fists. “I’m really glad you didn’t leave without that.”

Puck smiled a little at the quiet, airy, un-Rachel-like quality of her voice. “Me too.” He wrapped his fingers around her arms and pulled her with him as he took a step back from the wall. His hands fell away from her then locked together behind her back, encircling her in his arms.

“So,” Rachel sucked in a breath when she felt Noah’s muscles tighten and clench beneath the finger she ran along his side, “I know it’s late, but if you don’t need to go right now, do you want to come in? Maybe watch a movie or something?” She finally lifted her head to look at him fully, hopefully.

Puck smirked, because really? She’d have to like, run him out of there with a baseball bat or some shit to get rid of him at that point. “I got some time.”

“Good.” She smiled up at him and took a step closer until her chest brushed his when she inhaled. “Although, I should probably warn you, my couch is _very_ comfortable.”

“Warn me?” Puck narrowed his eyes and looked at her in confusion.

“Mmhmm,” she nodded, “once people find themselves on it, they tend to have a very hard time getting up to leave again.” Her eyes danced and she was doing a horrible job of containing her smile.

He lowered his head until his nose brushed hers, and he could see her little shiver when his breath washed over her. “I guess that’s just a risk I’ll have to take.”

Rachel didn’t hesitate to close the already small gap between their lips to kiss him again, pulling on his shirt and dragging him with her as she backed into the house.

So, there was a very good chance that one of the Daddies Berry would come down in the morning to find him asleep on their couch. And that ‘home before morning’ curfew his mom had set up? Yeah, she’d be pissed about him breaking that. But all it would take to calm his ma down was two words – Rachel Berry – and he knew for a fact that the Berrys were against guns, and like, violence in general, so like he said, it was a risk he was willing to take.

**_And I kissed you  
Goodnight  
And now that I’ve kissed you  
It’s a good night good night baby goodnight  
  
_ **


End file.
